


Mono No Aware | 物の哀れ

by orphan_account



Category: Derp Crew RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Dependent personality disorder, English, Everything Hurts, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Bipolar Disorder, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Regret, Self-Hatred, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The only difference between emotional stability and emotional dependency is a 2,451 mile plane trip.





	

Steven has found that he's quite persuasive, odd for someone so sporadic and anxious in temperament. Having been told such, one might be inclined to question, to disagree, because facts simply said otherwise.

Yet, he had spent countless nights holding  _him_ together, picking up every shard and sliver of glass from  _his_ shattered psyche, kissing  _his_ every bruise and cut. It seemed to others that those caring acts required no persuasive manor, but the coffee stains on his furniture begged to differ. 

There wasn't a single space in the entirety of Steven's college apartment that he hadn't spent a night frozen in, clutching onto his phone, coaxing  _him_ up from  _his_ lows or down from  _his_ highs. The highs left him spent, energy drained by _his_ disregard for logic, over-excitement taking the lead, Steven an unwilling follow. 

The lows were when Steven was made out to be a better lead than he was, the other following his every move and command, waiting, so patient. Too patient. He felt sick to his stomach, a boiling, cloying substance that, bubbling up, scalded his throat and tongue, expunging his words. So, he was left silent, abandoned with a dissociated human being that craved things that Steven couldn't give  _him._  

Illness, however, doesn't consider another's apprehensive attitude. It just takes, poisoning minds like Cyclosarin. He was left helpless, countless hours of  _hi_ _s_ voice- lilting but ruined, in a way-, quite different from _his_ usual tone, replaying over and over like a broken record, repeating the California heat.

Repeating _his_ words,  _what were they again?_

Repeating the emptiness, far emptier than the highs that kept him in a state of regretful bliss, resignedly content. 

It was less than silence, painfully so, despite the fact that  _his_ voice rang in Steven's ears like church bells, too loud to hear anything else, but, at the same time, so silent.  _His_ words were the auditory equivalent of a black hole- no sound escaped- leaving it deafeningly mute. 

He hated  _his_ words. It was the only thing he could find to hate, the only thing that he had left to convince himself that he didn't hate  _him,_ that he didn't hate  _his_ voice, that dread didn't flood his senses like fear whenever  _he_ was off to one side or the other. 

Steven needed to get away from the suety, saccharine taste he had in his mouth, like he was enshrined within an aimless downward spiral in perpetuum.

 _He_ was the reason his doctor had recently recommended sleeping medicine to pass void nights.

 _He_ was only whole with Steven. 

 _He_ had no self without him.

 _Anthony_ was a broken record, repeating his ups and downs like a cycle, over and over again.

 _Anthony_ was a broken record, repeating his ups and downs like a cycle, over and over again.

 _Anthony_ was a broken record, repeating his ups and downs like a cycle, over and over again.

* * *

Anthony's pale lips were dry, too dry, Steven noted. He had to look anywhere, anywhere but Anthony's sinful eyes. Anthony stood limply in the doorway, breaths shallow.

"I-I need... I need you right now. I can't... I h-have to stay here. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Steven forced, expression crumbling under Anthony's stare, the eyes he couldn't meet. He moved away, and Anthony's presence was known. A slight aroma of alcohol wafted through the air, soaking into the furniture that was all too familiar to the taller. 

"I'm... I..." Anthony broke off, tears welling in his glassy, sepia oculi. Steven's jaw clenched as he stared at the far wall, body stiff, muscles tensed.

"I understand. Please sit down. You need to calm down before we talk," Steven directed, eyes closing as he discerned the other drifting towards him. The feathery presence of fingers met his arm, and he let out a short breath to keep from flinching. The digits trailed off, arms replacing them, curling around his limb tightly.

 _"Please."_ Steven's eyes fluttered open and he stared at his ceiling, attempting to block out the fragile touch of the trembling form to his side. His desperate tries to distract himself split as Anthony exhaled sharply prior to choking out words.

"Why don't you look at me anymore?" Steven felt his heart sink.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, to the ceiling. His eyes flickered back to the other, and he fell. He met the other's eyes, and he fell. Not physically, but it hurt worse in his bones than any physical fall ever could. 

_"Please, I need you right now."_

"Anthony, this... th-this isn't healthy," Steven breathed, voice cracking as Anthony's arms retracted, then wrapping around the other's chest, both of them facing each other.

 _"It's unhealthy to need someone to feel whole again?"_ Steven couldn't move, could barely breathe, and his objections were failing, Anthony's burnt umber orbs piercing through his thoughts.

"I... It's unhealthy to not h-have an identity. To only have one with another p-person." Anthony paused then, the tears reappearing. He tried words, but his voice didn't, and he defected to gasping, the unholy sound shifting to a mangled, covetous whine. Knees weak, he went limp, Steven's hand forced by then to wrap his arms around Anthony's waist and hold him up. He brought him to the couch and sat him down gently, taking his place next to the taller, wincing. He extended a hand, to rub the other's back in a trivial but, hopefully, comforting gesture, but was stopped short. Anthony curled his hand around the other's and led the dazed appendage to his ebony mess of hair. Steven's momentary protests- evoked when the other used the next few seconds to shift onto his lap- were stifled, his mind having been unintentionally coerced, tipped too far, it's contents spilling onto the floor, leaving him in catatonia. This came about in reaction to Anthony's lips- still parched- leaving demanding bruises on his lips. Steven could feel the heat radiating from the other's face, concentrated emotion flowing from Anthony into him, electricity in his veins. He was embodied within his reverie, Anthony's touch sinking deeper than his skin, perpetuating Steven's catalepsy. With that, Anthony nudged up into the hand musing about strands of his hair, breaking out of the kiss. A cocktail mixed of one part desire and two parts misery pirouetted across Anthony's expression, Steven's free hand skittering down his side to rest again at his hip. He felt drunk, his common sense whisked away by the other's coquettish russet orbs, his own malachite's turn more of a pale glaze.

 "This is... This is wrong," Steven whispered, melancholic yet wistful. Anthony's expression twitched as he leaned down, pressing his forehead flush against the other's.

"Just... Please... Be- Be broken with me." His hand found it's way to the one on his hip, intertwining them together. Steven squeezed the hand in his, pitying eyes traveling listlessly across Anthony's form. It was then that the blaring hit. 

The silence was akin to a symphony, a funeral dirge of sorts. His throat contracted, skin prickling then with the sensation of bugs all over his form, bugs made of ice. Steven's brow furrowed at the shift in expression, so he whispered all of Anthony's favorite things into his neck, lips brushing against whispy skin. He was pulled out of the void that waited just below them, and pressed closer to Steven, a whimper on the tip of his tongue. Steven stared into the possibility of rapture, the other side of the scar laden tunnel, yet, opening his mouth to express this, give the sound resolution and revelation to Anthony, he found himself obviated. The once dreaded taste of Anthony's emotion, the bitterly sweet sugar, whisked itself away, gone entirely. Despite himself, Steven frowned.

**Author's Note:**

> Well! That was a train wreck. Every part of this was strange, with the Japanese title and complicated words and whatnot, but I wrote this over the course of like... Three days, but only actually was WRITING from 10 PM to 3 AM, due to the fact that I was having chest pains and heart palpitations. That sucked, but hey, at least it gave me motivation to write this... unconventional... conversation piece? Does this even qualify as a fanfiction?  
> In any case, I just thought I'd share the veritable QUEST I went on to finish this. It was a mess, to be sure.  
> I'll probably update my other fanfictions when I can get a decent amount of sleep & schoolwork done.
> 
> Later, nerds ✌


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